


There We Were, All In One Place

by callmedok



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amnesia, Baking, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gen Work, Light Angst, Pie, Post-Weirdmageddon, The Power Of Mabel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmedok/pseuds/callmedok
Summary: Pie is an important thing in the Pines family. It's something that feels like home. Three scenes in a lifetime of Stanley and Stanford Pines.





	There We Were, All In One Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scribefindegil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribefindegil/gifts), [thesnadger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnadger/gifts).



> I've been sitting on this since about February of 2017, and haven't really touched it since. It was something I brained up for a 'Food and Fluff' zine idea that was floated around by scribefindegil and thesnadger, but I can't remember if it ever went anywhere. And, because I'm a pie person, I went 'Ah, yes, Grunkle Stan and apple or blueberry pie, excellent.' 
> 
> There's some talk about Stan's past left ambiguous, hence 'light angst', as well as Ford trying to cope with 'losing' Stan in Weirdmageddon. The Power of Mabel cures all though.
> 
> So, here y'all go, this is about as finished as it'll ever get. Title comes from Don Mclean's American Pie.

It might not be much of a surprising thing, but he's always loved pie.

Growing up, pie meant the holidays. It meant Hanukah, it meant birthdays, it meant beautiful summer vacation, it meant being with family. His ma would save up a little cash so she could bake it all from scratch, nothing canned if she could help it, and his father would grumble but even he couldn't say anything against pie.

Blueberry, apple, peach, cherry, whatever was in season she would bake it, and every fork full was the best in the world. Him and his brother, they'd battle with forks for who'd get the last slice, and every time their ma would smile and laugh and cut it in half for the both of them to share.

It was perfect, to say the least.

*

But throw in teenage angst, some bad choices, and pie meant a reminder of home, what he once had and lost. No matter how many diners he wandered through, no matter how many states he visited, no pie came even close to what his ma made.

(And sometimes, when it got close to his birthday, he wondered if his brother was at home with their ma baking in the kitchen and their father downstairs working the pawn, and felt a twinge of jealousy. Not like he'd ever admit that though, eating a slice of apple pie he'd bought with some of the change left in his pocket and toasting himself for another year survived.)

Then came the postcard that changed everything, and the first birthday, the first Hanukah after, he couldn't stand the thought of pie. Susan down at the diner was kind, had dropped off a blueberry pie as a gift for the holidays, but whenever he looked at it he thought of two small boys laughing and fighting for the last slice and couldn't bring himself to touch it.

He dropped it off at a local shelter instead, bring a little cheer to others who might need it.

Time dulls some wounds however, and in the process of cleaning up his brother's house he found a small recipe box. Blue and purple floral print, his ma's favorite colors, and his chest felt tight and heavy with something as he took off the lid. Small index cards, all covered in his ma's tiny handwriting to fit in every single detail she could. A letter was tucked into the lid, saying how because her little Stanford was leaving across country he should at least have some of her recipes so he could make something to feel at home if he ever got homesick.

How much she loves Stanford, and to tell Stanley how much she loves him if they ever reach out to each other after all that happened.

And he cried on the floor of the kitchen, back against a cabinet, because it'd always been some background thought that he'd never hear his ma say that again.

That birthday, having set aside some money from the main fund for repairing the portal and maintaining the house, he walked into the local grocery with one of his ma's recipe cards in his pocket, to make sure he got all the right things.

It was a pain to get the dough right, couldn’t get the pretty edges like his ma did, and it took what felt like ages to peel and cut all the apples.

But a few hours later, the pie's come out from the oven maybe a bit too crispy around the edges, and when he closed his eyes he could see the kitchen from his childhood, his ma removing a glass dish and everything smelling like apple and cinnamon.

He cut two slices, and set one in front of an empty chair beside him. Someday, he promised himself, someday Ford will be here to eat ma's pie with him again. Hell, maybe they'll even be able to eat with their ma again, see her smile because their family is back together.

*  
  
That became tradition for Stan, baking a pie for his birthday and sometimes for other significant moments. The day he realized why Soos hates his birthday so much, he brought down a peach pie for Soos and his abuela, kept up his gruff act as he said he only brought it cause he couldn't eat it by himself. When Wendy had her first birthday on the job, there was a slice of blueberry pie left by the cash register.  
  
And when the twins show up, Mabel and Dipper...

He has an apple pie he made that morning sitting on the counter for their first meal in town, lies through his teeth that it’s store bought because he already feels like he’s showing his heart on his sleeve enough. Then two days later  when Mabel and Dipper are fighting over the last piece playfully, it’s like his heart cracks open overflowing with every emotion possible as he says “How bout we cut it in half, both of you can share the last piece.”

He almost adds ‘like my ma did for my brother and me,’ but the words stick in his throat as Dipper and Mabel share looks and grin as they nod.

(Two boys and their mother on the beach, a slice of blueberry leftover from an impromptu picnic, their mother laughing warmly as she cuts it for the boys to share and _damn it he will not cry-_ )

*

Stan is pulling a mixed berry pie out from the oven, almost drops it when he hears-

“GRUNKLE STAN! There’s a new episode of Ducktective on and- Grunkle Stan, are you baking?” Mabel says, and to be honest he thought it would’ve been Dipper who would find this out first. Nothing against Mabel, kid has a nose that could sniff out anything sweet with five hundred feet, it’s just… well, Stan didn’t have a good reason.

Maybe it was just the fact that sometimes, between Mabel and Dipper, he was reminded of him and Ford as kids. Couldn’t help seeing parallels, finding so much of Ford in Dipper and so much of himself in Mabel.

“Yeah kid, I’m baking. Gotta be careful sneakin’ up on your ol’ Grunkle Stan, pumpkin, mighta lost this pie and we wouldn’t have what my ma called her rainy summer pie with dinner later.” He says, turning to face Mabel with the pie still clasped in his oven mitts.

“Why did she call it a rainy summer pie, Grunkle Stan? Summer’s supposed to be warm and full of sunshine!” Mabel exclaims, throwing her arms up into the air with a wide grin as she says ‘sunshine.’

He sets the pie on a towel to the right of the stovetop before turning to Mabel, motioning for her to come sit at the dining table as he pulls out a chair for himself. She sits down, an eager expression on her face. Stan can’t help but smile a bit at that, maybe there was a bit of Ford in Mabel too, that love for something new and previously unknown.

“When I was a kid, my ma would bake a lot of pies in the summer. She made cherry, strawberry, peach, even blackberry. But it seemed like every time she made a mixed berry pie, by the time it was done baking it would rain. Even if there’d be no clouds in the sky, it’d start pouring. So she called it her rainy summer pie, and the name stuck. Even when she baked it in the fall, she called it her rainy summer pie.” He explains, a smile on his lips as he talks about his ma for what feels like the first time in years.

She would’ve loved to have met Mabel and Dipper.

“She sounds really cool!” Mabel says, grin big and bright, and his smile grows more solid.

“She was, pumpkin. Next time I bake, you wanna help out? Just gotta promise your Grunkle that there ain’t gonna be any glitter involved with the first one.” He offers, having learned rather quickly when Mabel gets involved there’s an increased chance of glitter in everything.

“I’d love to Grunkle Stan!” Mabel replies with a giant grin, throwing her hands into the air, and if the kids hadn’t stolen his heart the first time he held them, it would’ve been gone in that moment.

*

When Ford finally leaves the Portal, Stan doesn’t bake.

He’d originally planned to, if the gravity problem worked out relatively fine and things were undamaged, but with the punch to the face and the kids on edge and _‘They’re the only family I have left-‘_

He thought about whipping up a blueberry pie for a moment, itching to do something beyond fixing up the taxidermy pieces in the museum or cleaning up the gift shop.

But he just remembers Ford saying ‘I want my house back at the end of the summer’, the birthdays spent with a slice of pie in front of an empty chair, and the idea of blueberry pie just leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Pie in general just doesn’t fit right now.

Maybe he’ll make apple though, for Mabel and Dipper’s birthday party before they have to leave. Give them something good to remember their Grunkle by.

*

Ford doesn’t know what to do in the aftermath of Weirdmageddon.

Stan’s memories do seem to be returning on some level, aided by Mabel and her scrapbook, but for the first time in years Ford feels… scared, even helpless. Even with all his time in the portal, he’d never felt this out of control.

He’d tried to be the hero, destroy the insidious triangle once and for all, but in the end…

He’d lost Stan instead.

Until he feels the small hand wrap around the sleeve of his sweater, he hadn’t fully registered he’d been staring out a window in absolute silence. Stan didn’t remember him fully, did understand he was someone to trust and someone safe, but he found himself hiding away in the kitchen as Mabel and Dipper explained the significance behind every object in the scrapbook.

Mabel is right next to him, hand curled around his sleeve, and he gives her a tired smile.

“Hello, Mabel.” he greets her, almost wanting to call her sweetheart like Stan did.

(It’s too soon to do that, to even ruffle her hair in playfulness because that’s what Stan does and _he isn’t Stan he can never be Stan-)_

“Hi, Grunkle Ford. I-I kinda have an idea, about how to help Grunkle Stan, but I need help to do it.” Mabel begins, and rather surprisingly her scrapbook is clutched tightly in her other hand. She notices his look of surprise, and adds “Him, Waddles, and Dipper are watching The Duchess Approves. Dipper saw him watching it a couple of times, thought it’d work.”

She tugs him to the kitchen table that somehow survived Weirdmaggedon, and flips her scrapbook open to some pages filled with baking stickers and small notecards and-

A photo of her and Stan in aprons, Stan pulling a pie of some sort out of the oven while Mabel claps her hand in what can only be glee with a grin that wide.

“I don’t know where the recipe box is,” Mabel says quietly as she removes the three or four note cards from the corner holders keeping them flat to the page, “but Stan copied these out for me when I asked, so I could take them home with me. He said they were your mom’s, so maybe that could help with the early stuff?” Mabel passes him the cards over the tabletop, treating them like they’re gold.

In Stan’s blocky handwriting are the various recipes dutifully replicated, every turn of phrase the same as their mother used on the notecards Ford had all those years ago. It’s painful in its own way, the mix of the two people so near and dear to his heart, his brother’s writing and their mother’s words. All of them are pies, blueberry, apple, ‘Rainy Summer’, peach.

(When his eyes register the card titled ‘Rainy Summer Pie’, his vision gets a little bit blurry and his smile is watery. He remembers a long-past summer day, when he and his brother had just come back from the beach, and it was overcast as summer was edging into fall. Their mother slicing all the fruit up, passing the boys some of the extra peach slices and smiling as she threw it all together in the waiting pie tin lined with dough.  And it’d been a golden moment, just like the color of the pie crust when their mother removed it from the oven.)

“Mabel, that’s- that’s a wonderful idea.” He replies, trying to discreetly blink away the tears threatening to form even as his smile still feels wobbly. “It’s… In all this time, I never thought Stan would have even opened the recipe box. It means a lot to me, to find out he did. Thank you.” he says, turning to Mabel and sinking to his knees to engulf her in a hug.

And the warmth in Ford’s chest as Mabel hugs him back makes him feel that there is hope in this situation, there are still brighter possible things ahead. If Stan can figure out the Portal and rescue him, then Ford definitely has a chance of being able to help his brother right now.

**Author's Note:**

> What, a cliffhanger??? No, surely not.
> 
> Nah, I just hit writer's block at the time so Imma drop some sweetness on y'all: Ford, Mabel, and Dipper do indeed bake some pie for Grunkle Stan. It does help Grunkle Stan remember some of their earlier memories, as well as the years spent carrying on the pie tradition while working on the portal. It's not an instant 'Everything is better!', but it is the Pines family at a table sharing an imperfect pie, laughing and slightly coated in flour.
> 
> Also, if Scribe ever sees this: Thank you for the Mabelgram in like 2016, I still have all that glitter tucked away somewhere cause it meant a lot to me in college when I was all alone, and the world felt like an uncertain place.


End file.
